


Dinner at Seven

by orphan_account



Series: Boss [12]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, Boss/Employee Relationship, Developing Relationship, F/M, First Dates, Nervousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-04 04:11:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2913335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You and Frederick go on a date</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner at Seven

**Author's Note:**

> I realize that this took awhile and I apologize! Hopefully you guys like it. It was a bit difficult trying to figure out how the date should go but I think I made a good choice? Please let me know what you guys thought!!!

You cannot remember the last time your stomach had this amount of butterflies. It was probably years ago when you were in middle school and received your first kiss, which was a huge disappointment as you imagine all first kisses to be. Dates have always been more or less predictable, and you doubt Chilton -- or rather, Frederick, as you should probably get accustomed to calling him -- would do anything out of the ordinary. Still, the history between the two of you was more than enough to keep you worried. Your biggest concern was his power complex. He always had to have control when you were together and you were afraid that he would be controlling in a relationship as well.

In fact, it had had you so worried that two days after you had agreed to the date, you had marched into his office unannounced and let him know that you would not be pushed around or treated like a servant just because he is your boss. You said that you would not hesitate to leave him if he ever even thought about using the power he had over you and you let him know that neither your social standing nor your sexual habits nor the difference in age were any indication towards how he should treat you. He had sat, perplexed by the sudden outburst, but he listened and assured you he understood, to which you replied with a firm nod before promptly leaving the office.

And now, here you are, sitting across Frederick Chilton, in sheer tights and a rich purple cocktail dress. It is strapless with a neckline that offers wonderful cleavage as well as accentuates the necklace you're wearing. The skirt of the dress comes out a bit to provide a slightly modest silhouette, which you felt Frederick would appreciate (and as far as you could tell, he did.) The restaurant he brought you to was expensive, which you had expected. You have never been to such a restaurant before but you hadn't thought you would be so intimidated. You felt like all the other attendees could tell that you were not familiar with the setting and it was unsettling. But the atmosphere was not the most uncomfortable part of the evening at all. 

You had met Frederick outside your apartment building. He stood in front of his ridiculous car, cane in one hand and flowers in the other. He wore a stunning dark grey suit, a pinstriped white shirt, and, coincidentally, a dark purple tie that matched well with your dress. You greeted him a kiss on the cheek before letting him hold the passenger door open for you. The drive to the restaurant was filled with awkward attempts at conversation and small talk but neither of you really knew what to talk about. It was tough to discuss the weather with a man whose dirty secrets were so exposed to you.  _Hey, remember that time when you tied me to your desk and banged me on top of confidential patient files? Also, what is your favourite colour?_

You had hoped that conversation would pick up once you were at the restaurant, and it did, but only for the first ten minutes. Once the two of you ordered your food and the menus were gone, you didn't have anything to hide behind or talk about so you sat, sipping wine and repeating yourselves until, blessedly, Chilton's hand slipped and his glass fell directly onto his lap. 

He gasped and jumped up, causing the glass to fall to the floor and break. "Oh no," he grumbled, grabbing a napkin and dabbing at his wet crotch. You asked and he assured you he was fine, and only then did you let yourself giggle. Frederick looked at you, surprised. "What is it?" he asked.

You try to stifle your laughter as a waiter approached with a cloth and a small dustpan and brush to clean up the mess. "Nothing," you say, covering your mouth with your hand. 

"This is a very expensive suit," Frederick informs you, irritated.

You shrug. "How many expensive suits do you own, really?" you ask, unable to mask your distaste.

He takes a deep breath and doesn't answer you. Instead, he pulls out his wallet and drops 200$ on the table. "Here," he says to the waiter. "This should be enough to cover the food we ordered, along with the broken glass. Keep whatever is left for yourself and let the chef know we won't need the meals."

"Yes, sir," says the waiter.

"Or you could have them give the food to a homeless person," you chime in.

The two men look at you, unsure of whether you were serious or not. You roll your eyes and stand. "I suppose this means we are leaving."

"You suppose right," says Frederick. "Come on."

You roll your eyes but stand to follow, thanking the waiter as you pass him. Frederick hands you your coat and the two of you walk out. "So that's it, then?" You ask once you're both outside.

"Well, you were obviously uncomfortable in there," he says, handing the valet his number so that he could get his car. "I didn't see why we needed to stay."

"I was uncomfortable as soon as we walked in," you say. "You didn't decide to leave until I laughed at you." You know your words are harsh and not completely true, but you are irritated with Frederick for being so petty.

He didn't say anything; only shot you an exasperated glance.

You feel your anger starting to emerge. "Frederick, I thought you wanted to try this," you say firmly.

"I did try," he mutters.

"Sitting in a restaurant for all of twelve minutes does not count as trying," you snap. "You claim to know me but you bring me here, completely disregarding how uncomfortable and unfamiliar I am with the setting, and then you don't even wait for the fucking appetizers to get to the table."

"Well you weren't about to enjoy yourself, so…"

"Interesting how you just assumed that," you say. "After all the trouble that you went through to get me here, I  _really_ did think you would actually put in even the smallest amount of effort into --"

" _Fine._ " Frederick snaps. "What do you want?" 

"Food."

"What?"

"I want food," you say. "We haven't eaten and I'm hungry."

It flickers across his face for only a second but you caught it. He looked simultaneously surprised and relieved that you did not ask him to take you home. The valet pulls up with Frederick's car and the two of you climb in. "You decide where we go this time," he says as he starts the car.

You smile.

* * *

"No, no, no, you're holding them wrong!" You say, laughing.

"What is wrong with these things, anyway?!" Frederick grumbles, readjusting the two plastic sticks in his hand.

He had been quite displeased when you lead him to the entrance of Pho 95, your favourite Vietnamese restaurant. You had ordered the two of you two large bowls of pho -- beef for you, vegetarian for him. You had made a couple jokes about the tables having turned and him being the uncomfortable one now and, even though he was irritated at the beginning, he ended up smiling and soon the awkwardness had subsided. You were learning that despite the air of superiority and elegance he liked to display, Frederick did enjoy the simple things. The two of you were both laughing by the time your food arrived.

"Here," you instruct, "Just anchor one with the fleshy part of your thumb and hold the other like a pencil." You demonstrate with your own chopsticks.

"Jesus," he grumbles, trying again.

"You're doing it wrong --"

"Just give me a minute!"

"Maybe you should just get a fork," you suggest, stifling a giggle.

"I don't need a fork," he replies, giving you a stern look before trying again. 

"Just get a fork," you repeat when the noodles slide off his chopsticks and back into the bowl.

"I don't need it!" he insists.

"You do!"

"I disagree," he says, trying once again. He smirks when he successfully pulls the noodles up from the bowl without them slipping. "See?" he asks, but as soon as he leans forward for a bite, his hand slips and the chopsticks fall back into the pho, splashing the soup onto his face. 

You laugh. "You're awfully clumsy tonight!"

Frederick blushes as he wipes his face with a tissue. "You just like to see me suffer," he says, teasing.

_It's nice to see the roles reversed, then_ _…_ you think but you don't dare say aloud. Instead you wave a waiter over and ask him to bring a fork.

"I don't need a fork," Frederick grumbles as soon as the waiter is out of earshot.

"Mmmmmmhm," you hum teasingly before sipping your tea. "What is even the point of those giant hands if you can't even hold chopsticks?" You ask.

"Oh? What, like you got a hold of it the first try?" he asks.

"I did, actually," you confirm with a proud nod of the head.

He raises his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Yes. I was told that I was a natural."

He chuckles. "Well... congrats."

You smile. 

He smiles back.

The two of you share a pleasant silence for a moment and you can't help but think about how you have never in a million years thought that you would end up here with him, but before you can think about that for too long, the waiter arrives and hands Frederick the fork. He thanks him and the two of you resume eating.

A minute passes and Frederick speaks up again. "So… are my hands really that big?" he asks hesitantly.

You look at him, surprised. "Yes, they are huge," you say, questioning. Did he really not know his hands were big???

"Oh," is all he says.

"Not unlike a certain other part of your anatomy," you add, mumbling as you take a bite of your pho. 

His head jerks up in surprise, before he cracks a smirk. "Oh yea?"

"Oh, I am sure you were completely aware of that, Frederick," you say. You try to keep your face stern and matter-of-factly, but you can't help feeling giddy over the excitement and blush all across his face.

"So what else do you love about me?" he asks, teasingly.

"I never said I loved anything about you," you reply in the same tone.

"Oh, there must be _something._ "

"Not, a, thing."

He pouts jokingly. 

The two of you return to your pho for a moment, and you begin wondering whether or not you should bring it up. Your heart beats faster just at the thought, but you know that it'll drive you insane wondering so you ask. "Well, what about you?" you say.

Frederick looks at you. "What about me?" he asks, unsure of your meaning.

"What is it that you love?" you ask hesitantly "…about me. Do you still stand by what you said on Sunday?" you add when he is silent.

He takes a deep breath before answering. "Well, you certainly haven't done anything to change my mind," he states.  _On the contrary,_  he thinks.

You pause. "So you really meant it?"

"Yes," he says firmly.  

You nod, looking at your food instead of at him. You are unsure of how to respond. Probably should have taken that into consideration before you brought it up… 

"I don't want to pressure you about that," says Frederick. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable in any way."

"No, it's fine…"

"No, it's not. You don't have to feel the same way about me. Not now or ever. I'm just glad that you're giving me a chance. That's really all I could have asked for." 

You nod.

"Even if you decide after tonight that you don't want to see me for a second date, it's fine. Don't let how I feel affect how you would like to proceed."

"Okay," you whisper.

Frederick looks at you carefully. "Do you want me to take it back?" he asks slowly.

You look at him, willing yourself to meet his intense gaze. "Would you still feel that way even if you took it back?" 

"Yes."

"Then no. I think I would rather know the truth."

"Alright. Good," he says, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand in his. "In that case, yes, I meant it. I still love you."

You smile.

* * *

The drive back to your apartment is quiet, but unlike the ride at the beginning of the date, it is a pleasant silence. The two of you would smile at each other as he drove and sometimes you would squeeze his fingers lightly in your hands. After the first few smiling glances at each other, Frederick had placed one hand on the partition between your seat and his. He made it out to look casual, but you took it to be an invitation and placed your hand atop his. He quickly turned his hand over to hold yours. It was nice. You hadn't thought he would be shy about this but he was.

Your stomach did flips when he turned into the road of your apartment building. The date had gone so much better than you had thought it would, despite its rocky start. You were starting to see more to Frederick Chilton, more than the controlling, power-obsessed, selfish man he always made himself out to be. You try not to think about it too much, but you can't help it. Usually, sex on a first date is never an issue for you but you didn't know if you trusted him just yet. Under any other circumstances, you wouldn't hesitate to invite him up to your apartment to get cozy.

But maybe you're being silly. How could you know if he's changed if you never try?

He pulls up into the driveway of your building and parks near the front steps. He turns to you, a bit conflicted and maybe a bit hopeful, but you can't be completely sure. You still are not completely familiar with his facial expressions. "Would you walk me in?" You ask.

He smiles. "Of course," he says, moving to unbuckle his belt.

The two of you walk side by side into the building and you feel goosebumps rise up your arms as your stomach progresses from flipping to churning. You press the elevator button and decide that you aren't ready to let him in just yet, but you also want to see if you like him. You turn to him. "Will you call me?" You ask, hoping it's a good indication of what you're feeling.

Frederick looks incredulously at you. "Of course I will," he says, as if he were telling you that the sky was blue.

"Okay," you say, ducking your head.

"I had a great time tonight," he says.

"Me too," you say. The elevator doors open and you give Frederick's hand a squeeze before stepping in. "I'll see you at work."

"Goodnight," he says.

You look at him from the inside of the elevator and you can't help but feel warm and affectionate towards him. Maybe it's the look in his eyes.

The doors start to close, but you quickly step between them to prompt them to open again. You move to Frederick and put a hand on his shoulder. You lock eyes with him for a moment, then kiss him, catching his upper lip between yours and he happily reciprocates. It is short and gentle and you pull away before he even has a chance to wrap his arms around you. But you smile and he smiles and you step backwards into the elevator before it closes again.

He waves to you. You try not to laugh; the gesture feels slightly absurd, but you wave back at him as the elevator doors close.

Once they do, you lean against the wall. Your lips tingling and damp from the kiss, your feet tired from the heels. You feel the weight of your earring and your dress feels tight against your skin. You feel dizzy and wired. But it feels...good. Like you're high somehow. And you guess you are, aren't you?


End file.
